Rebirth
Tonight was a night like any other here in Sunnyhell, warm, balmy, and quiet as death. The humans who wandered around late at night had long since been picked off by Sunnydale´s night life, eaten or saved for a mid–morning snack; such was the way the town thrived. You´d think after years of living in this town, people would learn not to set foot outside their homes at night, but no... night after night, people disregarded the rumors, the bodies piling up in the city morgue, and the newspaper articles about missing persons, they still went out, lived their lives, or died trying.
I sit by the window while he sleeps, watching them, watching the scenes play out in the street before me. I can hear the running footfalls, clomping through soft grass, hear their beating hearts, if I open the window, I can even smell their fear, but I don´t go out there. It´s not a world I belong to anymore. I belong here, with him.
He´s sleeping now. He works hard during the day, and goes to bed not long after the sun sets, but never before letting me know that he needs me, that he wants me, that I´m his. I am his, body and soul. I belong to him, I am his William, and that´s all I wish to be these days.
I´ve thought about writing a journal, like I used to... before. When I was human, I was a soft hearted poet, in love with being alive, wanting to write it all down... wanting to savor every moment of it all. Had my heart broken a time or two, diligently recording it in my little leather bound book, poems of my ladies face and form, ethereal in her beauty... I wish I still had that book; I´d like him to know... what I was before... before I was remade. Like I said... I´ve thought about writing a journal, so he can know... everything, so he can have every part of me, but every time I try to put pen to paper, for once in my unlife, words fail me.
My thoughts are jumbled together, flowing endlessly, drowning me, pulling me down until I don´t think I can escape, and then... he´s just there. He seems to know when I feel so lost, when I don´t feel like I can go on one second longer, and he´s there, pulling at me, expecting... expecting perfection. I can be perfect, for those moments when he´s pulling at me, twisting me inside out, I can be perfect for him. I want to be perfect for him, and I know I´ve done it when I see the pride shining in his eyes, but he still pushes me that little bit further, waiting for me to break, but for him... for him I won´t. I won´t be a disappointment to him. I am his, and I will never disappoint him.
I push myself harder every day, trying to be everything and nothing all at once. I clean his home, cook his meals, do his laundry, and wait. Such long hours to wait for him, but I don´t stray from the door, kneeling beside it, waiting for the scratch of his key in the lock, day after day, when it finally comes my arms and legs trembling from exhaustion, sheer force of will keeping me upright, but when I see his face... I know I´ve done it. I´ve pleased him, and the exhaustion slips away.
Sometimes... he gives in, he knows what I need. He´ll turn me over his knee and dispense the punishment I deserve... the one he doesn´t want to give. He´ll paddle my bare bottom, sometimes with a flat wooden paddle, but sometimes... sometimes he uses his hand, and I can´t help but quake beneath his fingers. They sting, and slap at me, exposing me, raining down on my ass, my thighs, my tightening balls... he doesn´t stop until my face is stained with tears and I´m panting over his lap, then his fingers... his gentle fingers poke and prod at the raised welts, kneading them, stretching the sore and tender flesh, until I´m gasping in pleasured pain. He´ll take me then. Lay me down on the mattress; spreading my legs while he kneels between them, he even prepares me gently, stretching me with thick fingers, rubbing the lube in deep, slathering it on, before he enters me. These times... he stares into my eyes, holds my hands in his, thrusting so gently, rocking against me, never breaking eye contact. His long fingers stroke mine, sliding over my palms as he fills me, takes me, makes me his, but he never breaks eye contact. He wrings every last ounce of response out of me, driving me higher and higher on his gently thrusting hips, making me arch and beg beneath him, all the while... he stares deeply into my eyes, wanting me to know it´s him, to know it´s him that owns me, that´s loving me so gently. It only ever takes a word... one softly whispered word and I´m lost... I´m lost in his eyes, lost in him. "Cum," he whispers and I shatter like glass.
I can hear him, moving restlessly in bed and my semi–erect hard on springs to full life. I know what he looks like when he´s sleeping. I´ve memorized every second of his night time habits. He talks a lot in his sleep, mumbling low under his breath, about jobsites, Buffy, Willow, Dawn... his parents. I´ve soothed him during his nightmares, whispering in his ear till he cuddled me close and returned to deep sleep. I know the way his mouth bows out when he´s talking silently to himself in a dream, the way his breath hitches when nightmares come... and the way he gets long and hard when he´s caught up in a fantasy. I take him in my mouth then, swallowing him down, taking him into me, bringing him ease, he never wakes up. He releases down my throat, and I gladly swallow the offering.
It´s not about the sex... the ownership, it´s not about his friends or family, it´s about him, it´s always about him. I could care less about the rest of it, its part of the parcel, the extra baggage, part of him. He is the strength that holds me together, that makes me strive for perfection, to be what he needs me to be, to please him, to... to make myself into something more... for him. Always for him.
I can hear him... he´s getting restless, he knows I´m not near... he always knows when I leave at night, but he gives me my time, my space... but he´s waking up now, waking up without me...
He´s so strong, tawny and muscled, a Lion in sheep´s clothing. I slide into the bed beside him, settling under the light sheet, before he pulls me into his arms.
"Enough thought for tonight?" Xander asks.
"Yes Master," it´s always so easy to answer him. So simple and I can´t help but settle firmly against his side, basking in his warmth.
"Good boy William," Xander strokes my hair off my forehead. He´s kept it slightly longer than I´m used to, not allowing me hair gel, he loves to tangle his fingers in the curls, massaging my scalp, it always makes me shiver. I never knew fingers could be so gentle combing through my hair.
"Sleep, Master? You have work and the Scooby meeting this evening," reminding him gently of his obligations. There was a time I would have been very jealous of his friends... but I am a part of him now... now they´re everything to me as well.
"Go to sleep my William... Sunrise is only hours away..." Xander kisses my forehead before drifting off again, asleep within minutes. I wish I could do that, find such peaceful slumber in minutes. I can´t help staying awake a few moments longer... savoring his warmth, his smell; the way he breathes... he is everything.
I was reborn twice in my life. Once it was forced on me at the hands of Angelus... and the second time... the second time I chose my rebirth.
The End
